


The Wilson Colour Scheme

by therealfroggy



Category: House M.D.
Genre: M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 19:52:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therealfroggy/pseuds/therealfroggy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why would anyone want to paint their bedroom walls red? Well, it sort of reminds Wilson of something else, see.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wilson Colour Scheme

“What do you call this colour?”

Wilson looked up from where he was opening another can of paint. “The one on the wall? Vermilion, why?”

House scowled at him. “And you think vermilion looks good on our bedroom walls?”

“Why, don't you?” Wilson asked, putting the paintbrush down. He took a step back to admire his handiwork. “I think, with charcoal and silver fabrics and details -”

“Yes, yes, we all know you're a gifted home decorator,” House snarked, throwing the freshly painted walls a sour look. “But red is never right for a bedroom. It's very stressful on the eyes. You should have chosen light greens or blues, or something tranquil like that.”

Wilson laughed. “ _Tranquil_? You're just upset because we have to sleep in the living room for a few days. Get over yourself, House; it'll be great. Want to help me paint?”

“Only if the colour is chocolate sauce and my old hide is the canvas,” House said, smirking.

Wilson sighed. “Well, we won't be playing with your body paint set for a few more nights, so don't worry about it.” He stepped over to the bed, reaching for the smaller brush he'd left on the plastic sheet covering the bed.

And didn't have time to react as House's thump-thump of walking sounded twice, hastily, before Wilson was pushed hard enough to topple onto the bed, ending up sprawled face-down on the cold plastic.

“House!” he said, annoyed. “The place is full of paint!”

“Last I checked, you were anal retentive enough not to spill anything, even with plastic sheets,” House said, smirking darkly at Wilson before climbing awkwardly onto the bed next to him. “And we haven't had sex for _four days_.”

Wilson rolled his eyes. “That's about how often _normal_ people have sex, House. It's not my problem you're an insatiable nymphomaniac. And the fumes in here are incredible.”

“Don't care,” House said, grabbing Wilson's sweater and pulling him in for a hard kiss. Wilson was rolling his eyes again even as he let House's tongue possess his mouth.

“I want to have sex right now, right here,” House panted, licking his lips. “Take 'em off.”

Wilson laughed. “Well, if you put it like that.”

He pushed his slacks down, assisted by House's eager hands. His underwear shortly followed, and his skin made squeaky noises against the plastic sheet.

“We're lying on our plastic covered duvet,” Wilson commented.

“Stains will come off easier,” House countered, then made the younger man turn over on his stomach. “Don't worry about the sweater; it won't get in my way.”

Wilson was about to reply that he hadn't even thought about it when House's hands on his ass stopped him.

“You know what these four days without sex means, don't you, Jimmy?” the older man said with an evil little chuckle.

“No, what?” Wilson said, eagerly lifting his hips a little. He loved having House's hands on his ass; it usually meant he was about to get fucked or fingered or something even better.

“It means you haven't gotten your fix since some time last week,” House said, and his breath blew over Wilson's ass in a gush of warmth. “You know, that thing I do that you need _at least_ once a week and that just drives you mad. You'll always let me fuck you after; you'll even straddle me and do all the work while I just lie there and feel your ass around me.”

Wilson's throat constricted with heat and desire. “Yeah. I know that thing.”

“So I guess it's about time,” House purred, letting the tip of his tongue touch down lightly on Wilson's skin. “We wouldn't want you to go through withdrawal when you've got painting to do.”

Wilson moaned in agreement. “No, definitely not. Please?”

“Save it, Jimmy; I don't care about your good manners,” the diagnostician smiled, his lips curving against Wilson's right ass cheek. He moved his lips just a little more to the left, tongue darting back and forth over the pale skin, and finally dipped his fingers gently into the crack to open the younger man up.

Wilson grunted impatiently and thrust his hips back, wanting to feel House's tongue just where it made him squirm.

“Alright, alright, keep your shirt on,” House murmured, then buried his face in Wilson's pale skin and let his tongue dig into the younger man.

Wilson mewled loudly with pleasure. House's tongue was slicker and hotter than anything he'd ever imagined; it had him begging and moaning the other man's name after seconds. It always did.

“House! Gnngh! Oh, House, oh my God...”

House growled back. He loved doing this to Wilson; he loved the way it made the younger man thrash about and moan like he was doing a porn movie. Letting his teeth lightly worry the skin around Wilson's opening, he thrust his tongue further in and upped his tempo.

Wilson's breath was hitching, and his body was shivering. House could tell he was close. But amazingly, he stopped the older man, a shaking hand fisting in House's hair.

“Fuck me?”

House groaned even louder at that. “Really?”

“Yeah. Fuck me. I want to come with you inside me. On your back.”

House willingly complied. He rolled over, and Wilson straddled him. House's saliva still making his entrance slick, he quickly slid down on the older man, mouth open and red. House cried out as Wilson clenched around him.

“Just a little more,” Wilson panted, leaning down to steady himself with his hands to either side of House's head. “I need it, House; just a little more...”

House grasped Wilson's cock and stroked. The younger man gasped and shuddered as he came, shooting his come over House's hand and abdomen. He kept moaning, rocking, shuddering against House until the older man climaxed, too.

House screamed when he came. He screamed Wilson's name and his hands left dark red imprints on the oncologist's hips. He bucked into the younger man until he was spent; heavy and tired, he slowly stopped.

Untangling themselves, Wilson and House sank down on the now sticky and sweat-slick plastic sheet, lying next to each other but not close enough to touch. They were both very sensitized after sex, and though House loved to cuddle and Wilson laughed indulgently at him for it, they needed a few minutes first.

“Well, fuck me sideways,” House panted. “You need to learn some control, Jimmy. My tongue is amazing, I know, but the novelty of it must be wearing off by now?”

“Never,” Wilson gasped, heaving for breath. “That was mind-blowing.”

“Don't use those phrases, they're so cliché you make me feel like Elton John fucking Liberace,” House said. They both sniggered a bit at that.

“You know your ass is about the same colour as the walls when I rim it?” House commented, making Wilson blush. He loved having House tongue-fuck him, he just never felt comfortable talking about it.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. So now I'll be thinking about rimming you every time I think of our bedroom,” House continued, sitting up. The plastic sheet was getting a little too sticky.

Wilson smiled timidly. “You'll do it more often, then?”

“Nope. But I'll be thinking about it, and then I can give you a nudge and a wink, and you'll be thinking about it, too.”

Wilson sighed. Skilled in the ways of making Wilson scream House may be, but he was still an incorrigible old bastard. Which was what made everyone else get annoyed by him and made Wilson love him, of course.

But truth to be told, Wilson didn't mind a little annoyance and embarrassment if the prize was House's tongue in his ass once a week. It was a good swap.


End file.
